


Forget It

by Alterius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alterius/pseuds/Alterius
Summary: Perhaps saying he was enamored by him was a bit too much.





	Forget It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [percevall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/percevall/gifts).



> Written for a prompt request from my buddy Allison. The request was: _I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that? with prompto and ignis?_

The words come tumbling from his lips so abruptly that even Ignis himself isn’t expecting them. Prompto is the least prepared when It comes abruptly. It’s too _eloquent_ , which isn’t out of the norm for Ignis, but the rosy hue that highlights the horizon of freckles across pale cheeks is something of a point of pride to the man.

Years ago, when he’d met Prompto, he’d never considered this as a possibility. The concept of marriage or even just  _ dating  _ was a foreign one. His priority had been Noctis for so long that these feelings for Prompto had crept up on him with precious little warning. 

Prompto was different in ways that verged on impossible to describe. From leading Noctis into mishaps that started and ended at occasionally skipping class to following them all into the heat of battle without a single thought for himself, Prompto was no longer the wayward teenager he’d met five years ago. 

Yet even after all this time, he still had the same radiant glow that he shared only with the sun itself. To this day, he was still able to foster a smile on Noct’s face that no one else could. To this day, his mere presence was enough to do the same to his  _ own _ face.

“What?” Prompto asks finally, after an agonizing silence that felt longer than he knew it to be. He was glad to be free of it, reminded him of the nights where Noct or Gladio held their tongues against their tempers and made the silence too uncomfortable for words. 

But perhaps saying he was  _ enamored _ by him was a bit too much for the lad. 

So this time, when he repeats himself, he chooses simpler words: “I like you.”

He knows he should continue when he sees Prompto’s mouth open because he knows all too well what’s likely to fall from chapped lips. He was going to do his best to misconstrue Ignis’s words into something his low self-esteem can more readily believe; he was going to laugh it off, call himself “just a pleb” or “nothing special” like the former meant he was unworthy of such affections and the latter was no grand underestimation of himself. 

More than once, Ignis had fought back the desire to correct him, wanting nothing more than to navigate the constant reminder that it wasn’t his place. 

But Prompto doesn’t make a peep, his silence stretching on for a moment like he’s struggling to determine whether he’s even  _ heard _ him right before he can ascertain whether or not he’s  _ understood _ him properly. 

“You, uh… You what?”

There is no immediate denial—no thought to correct—and it’s so  _ foreign  _ to be without any problems to solve that he finds himself thinking first about a way to avoid making eye contact. It’s the first time in a long time that he feels his cheeks grow hot, dyed with an unfamiliar tropical hue that makes his embarrassment plain as day. It’s childish on his part how he fishes a cleaning cloth out of his back pocket and tugs the glasses off the bridge of his nose to clean nonexistent smudges off the lenses.

“You'll have to excuse me. That was inappropriate. Forget I said anything at all.”

But Prompto is still staring at him, doing anything  _ but _ forgetting and Ignis can only find it in himself to stare at him through the blur of his compromised vision. No matter his expression, Ignis fears the sight of it, doesn’t want to familiarize himself with anything but Prompto’s brilliant smile that he sees so often.

Yet Prompto isn’t put off by the hazy look in the eyes of a man that can’t see him properly. He closes the distance between them, makes it impossible for Ignis not to see bright, violet blue eyes, even without the glasses held between his fingers.

“You like me?” Prompto asks, disbelief evident in his voice, though Ignis doesn’t know why he would adopt such a tone for his sake. He doesn’t want to consider that those are eyes are shining thanks to feelings he  _ returns _ . 

“A more appropriate question would be: Who doesn’t?”

A rosy hue covers freckled cheeks, hiding the constellations formed on his skin from years of exposure to sunlight that didn’t stem from the depths of his bright personality. Who  _ couldn’t _ fall deeply in love with such a man? 

“You're, uh, you're exaggerating, Iggy.”

“I am merely being honest, Prompto,” he says, choosing not to disclose that the reason for his assertion lies with the knowledge that both Noctis and Gladio have spent just as much time pining over Prompto in the past. “You're very special to all of us.”

“I, uh…” Prompto says, struggling with words he can’t quite put together, thanks in large part to his unfortunate lack of self-confidence. Oh, how Ignis desperately wishes he could see what everyone else did. 

“It’s not necessary for you to reciprocate.”

This time, Prompto looks up at him, eyebrows arching upwards. An oddity, certainly, but not one that would raise alarm with Ignis unless—

“Dude, how could I  _ not _ ?” Prompto says, causing Ignis’s expression to mimic Prompto’s own. It was preposterous, in Ignis’s eyes, that Prompto would feel the same—though perhaps both their confusion was as mutual as it seemed their infatuation was. “You’re so  _ cool _ . I’ve had a crush on you since like… freshman year.”

“Prompto, that’s the entire duration of our acquaintance.”

“Uh,  _ yeah _ , I know.”

Finally, Ignis slides his glasses back onto his face, though the close proximity no longer makes it necessary. It’s only a momentary distraction as he tries to wrangle his emotions, willing away the blush that long ago settled across his cheeks to no avail.

“So, uh… can I…?”

Prompto pauses, like his lack of continuation should suggest something to him. It doesn't. 

“Can you what, Prompto?”

“Ya know, can I, uh, kiss you?”

That’s enough to make Ignis freeze, to cause his limbs to lock up and mouth to fall agape in surprise. More of a shock than the question is how Prompto doesn't take it back, doesn't revoke the statement. He makes no move to turn around and run away without warning before he can perceive a hint of rejection in Ignis's posture. 

Ignis knows the position he’s in; he knows that he shouldn’t even consider accepting the offer, no matter how much he wants to. Yet the logical part of him is pushed aside as he watches Prompto’s eyes turn downcast, like he’s overstepped an invisible boundary that the illogical side of him is desperately trying to erase.

There was nothing he wanted to do in this moment more than kissing Prompto, to meet the lips of personified sunshine with his own. 

If he could have that single slice of heaven for but a moment…

“Not even gonna answer, Speccy?”

It’s a poor attempt on Prompto’s part to sound confident. Ignis has known him for too many years to miss the way his lips pulls back into a half-hearted smile that’s better called a grimace than a grin, but perhaps that says too much about what his gaze is fixated on. He’s heard his voice too many times to not recognize the way his voice pitches upwards like the bark of a small, frightened dog that’s looking for a desk to hide under. He’s familiar with these things, yes, but the lure of a more  _ intimate _ understanding proves too tempting. 

When Ignis nods, the movement is so slight that he recognizes the doubt in Prompto’s eyes and now he fears that Prompto might revoke the offer, convinced that he’s somehow hallucinating Ignis’s agreement.

If this were a hallucination, it’d only be that much easier. More than once, he’d wished these feelings were little more than an exaggeration on his own part. Maybe years of being fixated on Noctis had led to a misconception on his part, born from the opportunity to finally tend to someone  _ other than _ his vegetable-hating charge. 

Prompto had sparked something in him that was a rarity, no matter how he tried to rephrase it, how he tried to minimize his feelings and focus on his  _ job _ . 

Just like his overactive imagination had suggested more than once, a kiss from Prompto doesn’t come without a modicum of hesitation. He can see his hands shaking before he feels them, understands well the grip that anxiety has on him by the cool touch of his fingertips gliding across his cheeks. 

Gods, Ignis wished with all his might that the way Prompto pushes up on his toes a second later didn’t stir the ever-present smolder in his heart, bolstering the flames into something nigh uncontrollable. When their lips meet, he can feel a swell of affection so great that he would swear days from now that he had swayed like he’d been stuck on a boat lost out at sea with the only man in the world that mattered in that moment. 

It’s a moment he’s living in already, so he can’t deny himself what he already has. He couldn’t stop his hands from moving even if he had half a mind to, so there’s not a thought in his mind when his hand rests along the nape of Prompto’s neck a moment, snaking around the back to anchor him in. 

A soft squeak of a noise slips from Prompto’s throat, muffled by their joined lips and Ignis would fear what that simple sound of approval would do to him, if not for Prompto’s hands slipping down to his chest, gently pushing him away, establishing a much-needed boundary that Ignis wouldn’t mind crossing, were he willing. 

The first thing he notices when Prompto pulls away, rolling back onto the heels of his feet, is the familiar flush of cheeks mere inches from his own.

“So, uh... You like me.”

This time, it’s no question. Ignis is grateful for it; he’s not sure he’d be able to come up with a response with any semblance of dignity, but it’s plain to see that Prompto expects a response in the way his eyes find interest in every inch of their surroundings, save for the gaze he was trying so desperately to avoid. 

Not answering isn’t an option, no matter the lack of an inquiry that would typically warrant it.

“Very much so,” Ignis manages to say at long last, watching a wobbly smile spreading across Prompto’s gaze as he meets his eyes. 

Gods, this boy could drive them all mad with such ease, if only he knew what a treasure he was. 

“So… Boyfriends?”

There’s nothing appropriate about dating your fellow Crownsguard. It was a liability and they were at war, only three of them separating the Niflheim army from the last line of Lucis, but no matter the threat from Niflheim, Ignis finds the war with himself to be much more convincing. 

Though he’d begun this expecting nothing but a quick  _ rejection  _ and hopefully an end to years of affection that he’d never been able to put aside, that wasn’t what he’d gotten. Turning him down now would be cruel. 

Nothing about this suggested it would work like they wished and yet… 

“I've never wanted anything more.”

Maybe—just maybe—they could make it work.


End file.
